


The Pact

by orphan_account



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Everyone is either a student or professor, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Stark University, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:28:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26387926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “How about this. By the time I turn 21, if I’m still a virgin, and we’re both single, I’ll just do it with you. I do trust you the most anyway.”____________________________Bucky Barnes has been your best friend since the first year of high school, and you mean the world to each other. On the eve of your 21st birthday, he reminds you of a silly pact that you had made: that you would lose your V-card to him if you had no other options. Will you go through with it, or will everything come tumbling down around you?____________________________This was soooo freaking fun to write, so I hope you have fun reading it lol!
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Female Character(s), James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader, Steve Rogers & Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 77





	1. Chapter 1

“Guess what’s happening next week.”

“What?”

“How do you not immediately know?”

“I’m sure you’ll tell me, Buck.”

You were with Bucky in your dorm room, sitting side-by-side on your bed with your backs against the wall. You were being responsible and finishing up the paper you had for philosophy (which was due in less than an hour) while Bucky played around on his phone. It was late, and you had class in the morning, but you were both self-proclaimed night owls so this was standard practice.

Bucky had been your best friend since high school. It was one fateful day at lunch freshman year when he approached your table. You had been reading your favorite book alone, nibbling absentmindedly on your sandwich when a hand had lowered your book down to reveal your face.

_“Are you seriously reading at lunch?”_ you remember him saying. You found yourself staring James Buchanan Barnes in the face; he was a freshman like you, but he had already made a name for himself at school. He and his friend Steve were the ones to watch. They commanded attention in every room they walked in without even trying, and they even had the teachers eating out of their palms. As surprised as you were that he was actually talking to you, he had interrupted your reading, which was a cardinal sin in your world.

_“Yes,”_ you had said to him in a clipped tone, and you promptly lifted your book again to continue where you had left off in an effort to dismiss him.

_“C’mon,”_ he had said, lowering your book again. _“Is this for class or something?”_ he asked, and that’s when he actually grabbed the book out of your hands to examine the cover. You felt your temper flare up, but it was quelled slightly by the fact that he had at least kept his finger in place to keep your spot. _“Lunch is for hanging out, socializing, having fun,”_ he insisted.

_“I am having fun,”_ you told him, reaching for your book. He snorted and got up with your book still in hand and began walking away from your table. You sat there for a minute, stewing in all the conflicting emotions that were rising in you (anger, frustration, intrigue, curiosity) and waited to see if he was coming back. When it was clear that he wasn’t, you let out a sharp breath and packed up your things to follow him. You spotted him at a table by the windows with Steve and a few other people. You thought about just abandoning your book, but you had reached a good part, so you soldiered on to the other side of the lunchroom.

_“Here, sit,”_ Bucky had said when you reached your destination. He moved his backpack to make room for you. You hesitated before taking the seat next to him and across from Steve Rogers.

_“Steve, have you read this book?”_ Bucky asked his childhood companion. Steve said a quick hello to you before glancing at the cover.

_“No, I haven’t, but I heard it’s good,”_ he said, looking at you. You realized Bucky was staring at you expectantly too, and it was clear they both wanted you to confirm if it was indeed a good read. They seemed genuine about it, not like they were teasing you, which somehow surprised you.

_“Yeah, it’s really good. That’s why you’re an asshole for interrupting me,”_ you told Bucky plainly to his face. He blinked at you, unused to being spoken to in such a brazen manner by people he didn’t really know. After a moment he gave you a sheepish grin and handed the book back to you.

_“Sorry, it’s just that you were alone over there,”_ he shrugged. _“You can read here, with us, we won’t bother you, right?”_ he directed at Steve, and the blonde nodded at you in assurance.

You had smiled at him despite yourself, and thus began a friendship that you hadn’t been looking for, but that you fully needed. You, Bucky, and Steve traversed high school together from that moment on. Even though the three of you were pretty close, your bond with Bucky was unlike anything you had with anyone else. He was so different from you, but he understood you so well. It was as if everyone around you had been speaking one language, and you were the only one speaking another, and you desperately tried to communicate with them to no avail until Bucky came along and began speaking your mother tongue. You told each other everything, and you had been through everything together. He was there to comfort you when your parents divorced sophomore year. You were there for him when Dottie Pembrooke broke his heart that same year. You spent a week sleeping in the hospital waiting room with Steve junior year when Bucky had his accident, and you were the one who encouraged him to get a tattoo on his prosthetic arm (he went with a plain red star even though you had suggested a unicorn). He encouraged you to major in English because he knew you wanted to be a writer, even though everyone else told you not to, and you helped him realize that computer science was his passion, even though he didn’t believe he was smart enough for it. You were everything to each other, and it was a no brainer that you both applied to the same colleges and wound up at Stark University where you were now, ready to take on the world.

“You don’t know anything special about next Friday?” Bucky continued to pester you.

You sighed. “What, is there a party or something?”

“It’s your birthday, dumbass,” he informed you.

“Oh. Crap. Already?” you said, checking the calendar on your phone. He was right, and you groaned at the reminder that you were only getting older.

“You’re turning 21,” he said with a bit of weight.

“Yeah whatever, it’s not like I’ve never had a drink before,” you waved him away, and went back to typing. Only two more pages to go and you could press SUBMIT.

He chuckled. “No, I mean, you’re turning 21. You’re single, I’m single. The pact?” He raised his eyebrows at you expectantly.

“Oh shit,” you said remembering. “The pact. Right”

The pact had been your idea. It had only been a few months since your parents split, and you had just come back to your mom’s house from a miserable weekend at your dad’s apartment across town. Bucky was in your room sitting at your desk, listening to you vent.

_“I’m staying by myself forever,”_ you huffed, tucking your pillow against your chest.

_“No you won’t,”_ Bucky said. _“You’re gonna find someone special, and you’ll fall in love, and it’ll be different for you. You won’t end up like them.”_

You felt something stir in your chest when he said that, but you ignored it and averted your gaze from him. _“I don’t need anyone like that. It’s not worth it. Besides, I’ve got you, and Steve. That’s all I need, the squad. My homies,”_ you said with a small laugh.

_“We’re not enough. Love is out there for you, trust me. Don’t you wanna go on dates? Take romantic strolls on the beach? Have sex?”_ he said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. You threw your pillow at him.

_“I don’t need sex,”_ you assured him.

_“Yes, you do. A lot of it, preferably,”_ he said, throwing the pillow back at you.

You shrugged. _“I could just do it with you. Get it over with, out of my system. Just so I can say I did it.”_

He laughed. _“I’m not sure Dottie would be too cool with that.”_

That same something stirred in your chest again at the mention of his relationship, and you shrugged it away. _“How about this. By the time I turn 21, if I’m still a virgin, and we’re both single, I’ll just do it with you. I do trust you the most anyway.”_

_“Okay…but I’m pretty sure I’m gonna marry Dottie,”_ Bucky said warily.

You shrugged one more time. _“Then the deal will be invalid. I’ll ask Steve or something.”_

Bucky narrowed his eyes at you. _“Alright then.”_

You perked up (a tad too much) and held out your pinky to him. _“Deal?”_

He wheeled himself in your desk chair over to your bed and hooked his own pinky with yours. _“Deal.”_

Now, you frowned at the memory. It felt like such a long time ago that you made the pact, like another lifetime. Bucky noticed the looked on your face.

“You forgot about it?” he asked.

“No, I just didn’t think I’d make it this far,” you said.

He scoffed. “What do you mean? You didn’t think you’d make it to 21 or didn’t think you’d still be a virgin?”

“Both,” you said, and he laughed.

“We don’t have to do it, I just thought it’d be funny to remind you,” he said, picking his phone back up and opening Instagram.

You considered it for a moment. “Well…we did pinky shake on it.”

He looked up at you in surprise. “Wait. You actually wanna do it?”

You leaned your head back against the wall. “I mean…yeah. Why not?” You looked over at him. “I’m still curious about the whole thing. And all of the guys here are idiots that I wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole. Not that you’re _not_ an idiot,” you said and he flicked your temple. “But…I dunno. I do kinda just want to get it out of the way. If you’re down for it,” you added quickly.

He looked at you for a moment before nodding slowly. “Alright. Yeah, I’m down.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay then,” you said with mild shock.

“Okay then,” Bucky echoed. He grinned, and you felt a tingle at the bottom of your stomach. “I’ll get to planning.”

“Planning?” you asked. “Don’t we just get in bed and do the thing?”

“I’m a gentleman,” he said straightening his back. “I have to at least wine and dine you first, geez.”

“Ugh, don’t make this a big deal,” you said rolling your eyes.

He nudged you, which made your laptop slide off your lap. “It is a big deal, it’s your first time!”

“I’m not 15 Bucky, I’m a grown ass woman. We’re just doing this to do it.”

“Whatever, I’m making it special whether you like it or not,” he said, standing up and stretching his hands above his head. You ignored how his shirt rode up a bit and revealed a peak at his abs.

Just then your roommate Natasha walked through the door. She was a theater major with a special concentration in dance. Rehearsals ran late that night and she looked exhausted, throwing her bag on the ground as soon as she came in.

“Hey Barnes,” she nodded at Bucky. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” she said smirking over at you. You rolled your eyes at her.

“Hey Natty, I was just leaving, actually,” Bucky said. He gathered his things off your bed.

“You must want to die, James,” Natasha said, glaring at him. “Call me Natty one more time.”

“Night, Natty,” Bucky said, patting her coppery bob. Natasha lunged at him but he dodged her and escaped through the door, laughing the whole way.

Natasha grunted in frustration and flopped down on her bed. “He’s infuriating, how are you friends with him?”

“Rough night?” you asked her.

“Yes,” she sat up and unhooked her bra from under her shirt and flung it across the room. “Our stage manager is a nightmare, and our director knows jack shit about directing.”

You chuckled and shook your head. Even though Natasha constantly complained about things going awry behind the scenes, every time you went to see a show she was in, it came out flawlessly. “I’m sure everything is going to be alright.”

“By sheer luck,” she said bitterly. She kicked off her shoes and reclined back down on her bed. “When are you just gonna get with Barnes already?”

The question didn’t surprise you. Since the two of you met, Natasha had been adamant that there was something more than platonic going on with you and Bucky, and despite your protestations, she always teased you about it whenever she had the chance.

“Next Friday, apparently,” you said.

She turned her head to you sharply. “What?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

She shot up and sat at the edge of her bed. “Wait, what are you talking about?”

You told her all about the pact and how it was your birthday on Friday. She listened in rapt attention, not looking so tired anymore.

“First of all,” she began after you were done, “thanks for reminding me about your birthday, I will get you something nice. Secondly, I could have hooked you up with someone, I know plenty of great guys. You don’t have to settle for Barnes.”

“He’s my best friend,” you shrugged. “I trust him with this, I don’t want to just jump into bed with someone I don’t know.”

Nat gave you a look and laid back down again. “Okay.”

“What?” you asked.

“Is it possible that you’re just using this ‘pact’ as an excuse?” she said, making air quotes around the word pact.

“An excuse for what?”

Nat draped her forearm over her eyes and let her other arm hang off the side of her bed. “Anyone with eyes can see how you two feel about each other. It’s obvious to everyone but you two. You made that stupid pact because you never had any intention on being with anyone else, but you’re too chicken to actually tell him how you feel, so you made the pact as a weird failsafe.”

You sighed. “Nat, is it so impossible to believe a man and a woman can have a friendship without any complicated undertones?”

“No,” she looked at you. “It’s not impossible. That’s just not the case with you two.”

You laid back on your pillows and looked up at the ceiling. “That’s not true,” you informed her, but the words sounded distant even though they were coming from you.

“My ass,” Nat said. She got up and crossed the space between your beds and took a seat next to your legs. “Listen. I know Barnes is your friend, and you’ve known him longer than you’ve known me. But just be careful,” she said, and you looked over at her. “Sex complicates things, it always does, even when you think it won’t. Make sure you’re both on the same page, that’s all.”

You gave her a tiny grin. You at once admired and resented her timely wisdom, knowing that most of what she was saying was true. But this was Bucky. There was nothing complicated about what you had with Bucky, that’s why it worked. You considered Friday to be simply another way the two of you would bond. Right?

“Thanks Nat,” you said and she patted your leg before returning to her own bed.

You glanced at the time on your phone. Shit. It was 11:55 already, and there was no way you would be able to write two whole pages in four minutes. You groaned and made the 1,000th vow never to procrastinate again (but you knew you would).


	2. Chapter 2

“Professor Laufeyson?”

He turned around at the sound of you calling him. It was after class, and as the other students filed out, you approached his desk to talk to him about the paper you didn’t submit on the online portal last night. Professor Laufeyson was a tall and slightly thin man with pale skin and shoulder length ebony hair. He was one of the more intimidating professors on campus, or at least he proclaimed himself to be. A lot of people thought he was cute, and you had to admit that he wasn’t bad to look at, but you were sure that Bucky was the only guy who could truly pull off the long-haired look.

“I was finishing up my paper last night and the time got away from me. I was almost done with it, but the portal locked me out of the assignment so I couldn’t submit it electronically,” you told him. You held out the physical copy you printed out that morning. “I understand if you have to penalize my grade, but I wanted to make sure you had something from me, rather than nothing.”

He sighed deeply and looked at your paper as if it were a slug that someone had poured salt on. He looked up at you. “I appreciate your willingness to hand in the assignment but you know my policies as they are outlined on the syllabus,” he said. You nodded apologetically and was about to withdraw your paper when he took it from you.

“I’ll make an exception, this once, because you are one of the better pupils,” he grudgingly admitted. “Don’t let it happen again.”

You assured him that it wouldn’t and you practically skipped out of the classroom. Steve was waiting for you just out the door. You both had Laufeyson’s class even though you were different majors. Steve was studying political science, which fit him perfectly because he was obsessed with civic duty. As soon as all of you had turned 18, he made sure that you and Bucky registered to vote, and he was already making preparations for the upcoming census.

“What did he say?” he asked when he saw you.

“He accepted it,” you said excitedly.

Steve gave you a high five. “I told you. He talks a big game, but he’s a total softie.”

You walked along with him out of the building and onto the main pathway to get across campus. You didn’t have class again for another hour, but you always walked Steve to his math class. It was just beginning to get warm, and the trees on campus were beginning to bloom. You loved how the campus looked in the spring and couldn’t wait for things to get warmer.

“Happy birthday, by the way,” Steve said.

“It’s not until next week,” you said giving him a little nudge.

“I’m saying it early,” he said, nudging you back. “So what are we planning for this big day?”

“Uh, actually, I think Bucky had something up his sleeve,” you say cautiously.

“Oh, right, the pact,” Steve said plainly.

“He spoke to you about it?” you asked.

“Well, yeah. I mean I’ve known about it since you made it, but he hasn’t shut up about it for the past month,” he said, a bit of vexation lacing his voice.

You stopped walking and it was a moment before Steve realized and turned back to you. “He’s been talking about it for a month?” you asked incredulously.

“Yeah. Didn’t he tell you about his plan for the night?”

“Nooooooo,” you narrowed your eyes at your friend. “When we spoke about it last night, he acted like he was just remembering it.”

“Oh,” Steve said quietly. He turned abruptly and kept on walking. You ran to catch up with him (he was fast, so it was a little difficult) and grabbed his arm and forced him to face you.

“Steve. Explain.”

“There’s nothing to explain, forget I said anything,” he said. He tried to escape again but you blocked him.

“Steven Grant Rogers, you better tell me everything,” you threatened. He looked up to the sky and let out a prolonged exhale before looking down at you again.

“Is…is Bucky seriously looking forward to this?” you asked.

“He’s gonna kill me,” Steve muttered more to himself than to you. “Of course he’s looking forward to it.”

You looked at him like he had five heads. “What do you mean ‘of course’?”

Steve gave you a look that told you that you should have known what he meant. “We’ve all been friends for a long time, and I’ve spent countless hours watching you both. It’s obvious.”

He was starting to sound like Nat, but you weren’t putting two-and-two together. “What’s obvious?!” you exclaimed.

“Okay,” Steve began, seeing that he needed to spell things out for you. “Remember that very first day, at lunch freshman year when you came to sit with us?”

“The day we became friends, yeah.”

“Why do you think Bucky went up to you in the first place?” he asked, the intensity growing on his face.

“I dunno,” you said weakly. “He wanted to be annoying.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “What I remember is that Bucky kept talking about the girl he always saw at lunch reading, and he wouldn’t shut up about her until he finally got the balls to go up to her,” he said slowly and deliberately.

“What are you saying?” you ask barely above a whisper.

“I’m saying that Bucky has had feelings for you for the longest time,” he finally said. “I thought this was something we all knew but just didn’t acknowledge.”

You shut your eyes, urging your brain to compute what had just been revealed. You began to shake your head. It all wasn’t making sense, and yet it made perfect sense.

“But…what about Dottie?” you asked. Bucky had treated her like the love of his life, and you remembered how devastated he was when she dumped him.

“You guys became friends, and it didn’t seem like you wanted anything more than that, so he moved on,” Steve said. “Or at least he tried to.”

Your world was suddenly tilted on its axis, and you could barely see straight. It felt like your whole friendship with Bucky had been built on a lie, or a misunderstanding, or whatever you wanted to call it. You looked at Steve and he had a pitying look on his face.

“Listen, I gotta head to class, but we can talk later,” he told you. “I’m sorry to be the one to drop that bomb on you, but…I seriously thought you knew,” he said shaking his head.

He left, and you stayed standing there, quite literally contemplating life. You felt a buzz in your pocket and took out your phone. You saw it was a text from Bucky himself.

**Almost done in the lab. Wanna meet for lunch?**

You stared at it for a while until the words looked like gibberish. Finally, your legs propelled you forward and you were on your way to the computer lab. You got into the building and walked down the long hallway leading to the lab. You took a deep breath, bracing yourself before entering. When you did, you immediately saw Bucky sitting there in front of one of the many monitors that lined the room. He wasn’t alone. Dr. Bruce Banner was there, the best STEM professor the university had, along with Tony Stark. Tony was a legacy student, obviously (his name was all over the school, literally). His family had built the university up for generations, and he was kinda a big deal on campus. Along with his notorious behavior, he was known for his smarts too. He was somehow completing his Bachelor’s degree and Master’s degree at the same time. Tony was the first to notice you.

“Hey Peaches,” he said, giving you that signature Stark grin (you had no idea why he started calling you Peaches, and you were always too scared to ask). “You came to save Rapunzel over here?”

Bucky gave him a look before swiveling around in his chair to greet you with a smile. Your heart lurched, but you managed to keep it together and return the smile back to him. You glanced at Dr. Banner and he gave you a warm look and a nod.

“We’re almost done here,” Bucky said, and you took a seat and watched them huddle around the monitor again, speaking tech language you couldn’t begin to understand. After a little while longer, they seemed satisfied and they dispersed, Dr. Banner disappearing into his office and Tony leaving the lab, but not before giving you a suggestive wink. Bucky finished up a few things and printed out a couple of articles and packed up his belongings. As he lifted his bag, he winced a little and rolled his left shoulder a few times.

“You okay?” you asked him.

“Yeah,” he said, re-composing himself and giving you a smile again. “You know how it bothers me when the weather changes up,” he told you, speaking of his metal arm.

You must have still had a concerned look plastered on your face because Bucky laughed at you and shook his head. “I’m fine, I promise,” he groaned. He placed his hand on the small of your back as he led you out of the lab. It was a gesture he had always done before, but it felt different this time, sending waves of electricity zipping up and down your spine.

“Where do you wanna eat?” he asked.

“I dunno, you choose,” you said as normally as possible. For the first time ever, you didn’t know how to act around your best friend. You didn’t what to say, or how to say it, and you definitely didn’t know how to feel. Every human emotion was raging through you, and you cursed yourself for being unable to handle this calmly.

“I think the café in Shield Hall has those spicy mozzarella sticks again, wanna go there?”

“Yeah, cool.”

That’s where you wound up a few minutes later, and Bucky ordered a double cheese burger with French fries and the mozzarella sticks, and you stuck with a simple hot turkey sandwich. When the food was finally done, Bucky paid (“My treat,” he said with an adorable grin) and you found a table to sit at.

“So, what have you been writing lately?” he asked in between bites of burger.

“Just little things,” you said, nibbling on your sandwich.

“Will I get to read them?” he pleaded.

You smiled at him, you couldn’t help it. Bucky was the only person you let read what you wrote. He was the only person who took your writing aspirations seriously. Whenever he read something of yours, he didn’t just tell you he liked it, he pointed out specific things that he enjoyed, and he wasn’t afraid to point out things he didn’t get or wasn’t a fan of. You valued his opinion; it made you a better writer, and he challenged you because he knew you could go farther and dig deeper.

“When I’m done with them, yes,” you promised, and he nodded in satisfaction. He placed a handful of fries onto your plate even though you didn’t ask for them, and you gratefully popped one in your mouth.

“How do you feel about eggplant parmesan?” he asked randomly.

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Why would I want that when I could have real chicken parmesan?”

“Gotcha,” he said, seeming to mentally take note.

“Is this about Friday?” the tingling began at the bottom of your stomach and you swallowed a bite of sandwich to shoo it away.

“Maybe,” he said coquettishly. The tingling intensified.

“Just tell me what you have planned,” you sighed.

“Absolutely not, it’s a surprise,” he said firmly, stuffing a whole mozzarella stick in his mouth.

“I hate surprises.”

“Since when?”

“Since forever,” you deadpanned.

He looked you right in the eye. “Do you trust me?”

You looked right back. “Yeah, I do, but-”

“Then don’t worry, Friday is gonna be great.” He frowned. “Unless you don’t want to go through with it. ‘Cause you can always change your mind, you know that, right? At any time, just say the word. Have you changed your mind?” he asked, his eyebrows knitted together.

“No, no I haven’t changed my mind,” you said quickly. “I dunno, I’m just kinda excited.”

_Excited? What the hell? Why would you say that?_ You thought to yourself. You were sure that you had meant to say “nervous” but the other word had slipped out. Bucky raised his eyebrows at you and a hint of a grin was on his lips.

“You’re excited?” he asked carefully.

“Well, I mean, yeah, I guess,” you said, grasping for a way to contain the situation. “It’s always exciting trying new things…like when I tasted Nutella for the first time,” you offered.

His sapphire eyes studied your face. “Shit, I don’t think I can live up to Nutella,” he said and you laughed. “Are you positive you want to do this?”

“Yes, I am,” you said seriously.

Bucky let himself fully smile. “Cool. Then it’s a plan.”

“It’s a plan,” you confirmed. You watched him as he continued to eat, and your heart did a break dance routine. He looked different to you, felt different to you. It was like a screen had been lifted, and you could see how your friendship could change and evolve, perhaps into more.

You didn’t know what Friday would bring, but you had confidence in the friend sitting in front of you, and that was more than enough for you.


	3. Chapter 3

The walk back to your dorm was a bit brisk, and you were glad you had decided to wear your SU sweatshirt to class. It was Friday, your birthday, and you had just gotten out of your psychology class with Dr. Wilson. It was just an elective, but you enjoyed the class. It was small, and Dr. Wilson insisted that you all called him Sam. He focused a lot on mental health, and he was just an overall great teacher who was present and understanding. The sun was beginning to go down, and as you got closer to your building, you could feel the anticipation for the night picking up steam.

The day had started off well. Natasha had woken you up with a batch of Funfetti pancakes she whipped up in your small kitchen, and she had gifted you with a cute pair of earrings that you adored. Steve had treated you to lunch and had given you a hard-covered journal that had your name on the front of it. As far as Bucky went, you hadn’t seen or spoken to him at all. You had sent him a couple of text messages that were left unanswered, and you hadn’t found him in his dorm or in the lab. You knew he was just being dramatic (he would fit in right with the theatre students), but the suspense was only making you more anxious, but in a good way.

You had the whole week to think about what was going to happen and what Steve had told you. You played moments from the last seven years in your mind over and over, trying to piece together things you didn’t notice before in your friendship with Bucky. The truth was (and the truth was hard) that you had to admit that your feelings for Bucky had always extended beyond the boundaries of friendship. It was something you tried to vehemently ignore because you had no patience for flowery emotions, they did no good, but it wasn’t something you could deny any more. It was scary; Bucky was so important to you, and by introducing these new feelings into your relationship with him you were risking everything falling apart, but you had decided to keep your mind and heart open to new possibilities.

That was the thought you held onto as you opened your door and saw Nat standing there in the middle of your room, her feet in third position. 

“Finally, you’re here,” she said. “Okay, so I’ve been tasked with helping you get ready, so let’s get this show on the road, we’re on a schedule.” She directed you to sit on your bed while she rummaged through your shared closet.

“A schedule? You’ve been planning this with Bucky?” you asked.

“He dragged me into this, and a few other people,” she called out from the closet. She finally emerged with a black dress that you didn’t recognize. “I saw this while I was shopping for your earrings, and I thought you’d look amazing in it,” she explained.

“Aww, Nat you didn’t need to--” you began, but she waved your modesty away.

“Put it on,” she said.

You did, and she was right, you looked amazing in it. It was a black, off-the-shoulder dress with long mesh sleeves and a hem that reached just above your knees. It hugged your frame and gave you an hour-glass shape. It was simple, yet elegant. Nat let you borrow a pair of her strappy heels to complete the look. She sat you down again and worked on your hair, giving you a side part and big body waves. She put a light layer of foundation on your face and painted your lips ruby red. When all was done, you looked at yourself in the mirror and marveled at how you looked.

“Oh wow,” you said, turning slightly to see yourself from different angles.

“You look _hot_ ,” Nat said. She stood next to you in the mirror and shook her head. “And to think, this is all being wasted on Barnes,” she said, but she had a grin on her face.

“Thank you Nat,” you said genuinely.

“No problem roomie,” she said, cocking her eyebrow at you. She went over to the door and opened it. “Alright, now get out of here.”

You laughed and stepped into the hall. “Okay, but where do I--” she shut the door in your face before you could finish your question. You were about to demand her to open it again when a voice came out of nowhere.

“Hey.”

You jumped about ten feet into the air and turned around to find Stephen waiting for you. Not your Steve, the other guy who shared his name who was in the drama program with Nat. You had run into him a few times on campus, and you were pretty sure you had a class with him once. He seemed nice enough, but you always found him a bit…strange. Now, he motioned for you to follow him, and you realized that Bucky must have roped him into all this too. He led you out of the dorm building and down the path that led to the back of campus that was woodsier than the rest. It was dark out now, and you kind of felt like you were setting yourself up to be murdered in the backwoods, but you marched along anyway, following your guide.

Finally, you reached an open grassy space that was bordered by trees. In the middle was the big gazebo that you had only visited once or twice during your time at the university. People usually used it on graduation day to take cute pictures with their friends, and a couple of sororities might have used it for different events. Tonight, it was covered it in yards of fairy lights, making it look like it was encased in a halo of stars. You could see Bucky standing in the middle of it next to a table set for two. He was wearing a grey t-shirt tucked into black slacks and a nicely tailored black sport coat. His hair was slicked back into a small bun (you hated man-buns, but on Bucky it looked better than fine). You turned to thank Stephen for escorting you, but he was already gone.

“You look…incredible,” Bucky said when you joined him. His eyes took in every part of you and you became all too aware of your own breathing.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” you told him.

“What do you think?” he asked, gesturing to your surroundings.

You looked around and smiled up at him. “I think I’m going to be thoroughly wined and dined tonight.”

He bit his lip and scrunched up his nose, the face he made when he was excited, and your heart bloomed with emotion. He pulled out your chair and you took a seat and he did the same. Just then, Clint and Wanda walked into the gazebo and stood before you, dressed in all black like they worked at a fancy restaurant. Clint was a student athlete through and through; he was on multiple sports teams, including archery (the teams were known as Stark University’s Mighty Avengers, and the school mascot was literally the letter ‘A’), and Wanda was a fellow English major, so you and Nat both knew her well.

Wanda gasped when she saw you. “You look so good,” she said, and you thanked her.

“Good evening,” Clint said formally, although it looked like he was trying hard not to laugh. “I’m Clint, I’ll be serving you your food for tonight.”

“And I’m Wanda,” she said, remembering her part. “I’ll be providing drinks for you this evening.” She stepped forward and placed the metal ice bucket she had in her hands on the table, and Clint handed her a champagne-looking bottle which she opened with a loud pop. She poured the fizzy liquid into the glass flutes on the table. “This is sparkling apple cider, we’re still a dry campus,” she informed the both of you and deposited the bottle into the ice. 

The pair left with promises to come back with the appetizer, leaving you and Bucky alone again.

“I can’t believe Maintenance let you do all this,” you said, still amazed at the whole set up.

“Yeah, about that,” Bucky said, running his metal hand over his hair. “I didn’t exactly get permission for this, so we should probably eat fast,” he said and you both laughed. Soon, the food was brought out, and you and Bucky ate and talked and laughed some more. It was the most at ease you felt with Bucky in over a week, and it felt refreshing. Every worry you had was gone, and all that was left was your open heart which Bucky was filling up by the second. Bucky took the last bite of his main course (he had gone with the chicken parm), and rubbed his hands together.

“Okay, it’s time for your gift,” he said. You thought he was referring to the sex and you were about to tell him that you were _not_ about to get down in a damn gazebo, but he reached down under his seat and put a wrapped gift box on the table.

“Oh, you shouldn’t have darling,” you exaggerated and he grinned as you opened it up. You lifted the box lid and found a book. It had that delicious old-book smell, a mixture of wood and ink. It was red leather-bound, with its title gilded in gold lettering on the cover. You looked up at Bucky and covered your mouth with your hands to contain your excitement.

“Is this a first edition of _Frankenstein_?” you squeaked out, and Bucky nodded, his own excitement radiating off of him.

“It was surprisingly hard to find, but Tony helped me pull some strings,” he admitted.

You held the book in your hands and ran your fingers over the cover gently, as if it would shatter to pieces if you were too rough. You were touched that Bucky had remembered your admiration for Mary Shelley. She was a woman that dared to have her unconventional story published in a time when women writers weren’t taken seriously, and she created a whole new genre of story-telling in the process. You had read the book in one of your first year English classes, and you had spent almost an entire night giving Bucky a lecture about it and he patiently listened to you. Mary Shelley had become one of your personal icons, a role-model that you hoped to follow in the footsteps of.

“It’s the 1818 version, I made sure of it,” Bucky said as you carefully inspected the book’s pages, and your smile got wider (while the 1831 print was just fine, it included edits that Shelley’s husband encouraged, which made you resent that edition, and you were amazed that Bucky had remembered that small detail).

Now, you launched into another lecture about what the publishing process was like back then and how you thought this specific edition was bound and sold, but you stopped yourself when you glanced up at your friend.

“Sorry,” you said. “I’ll stop, you don’t need to know all that.”

“No, continue. I love when you talk about that stuff, you look so happy,” he said. He had a serious look on his face and he leaned forward as if he were going to say something, but Wanda came back before he could.

“Okay, so dessert is taking…a bit longer than expected. But not to worry,” she assured you both, “it will be out as soon as possible. May I suggest a dance while you wait?” she directed to Bucky and he smiled.

“I think that would be a great idea,” he said looking at you with a sly grin.

Wanda left, and he offered his hand to you across the table and you took it, standing up with him. He guided you a little further from the table and took his phone out of his pocket. After searching for a bit, he seemed to find what he wanted, and a brassy, jazzy tune seeped out of the Bluetooth speakers you hadn’t noticed before. He drew you in close, until there was no space between you, and firmly placed his right hand on your back, and grasped your hand in his left. You placed your other hand on his shoulder, and the two of you began to sway as Ella Fitzgerald’s deep and silky voice rang out:

_Stars shining bright above you_

_Night breezes seem to whisper, I love you_

_Birds singin’ in the sycamore trees_

_Dream a little dream of me_

You usually made fun of Bucky’s taste for old music, but you couldn’t find it in you at that moment. You stared at your hand in his, a blend of skin and metal, and thought back to when Bucky had his accident. It was a dark time for your little trio. You remembered being petrified that you were going to lose him, that the brightest light in your life was going to be snuffed out and you would be alone again, lost without him. You took a deep breath and let it out slowly to release the emotions that bubbled up in your chest at the recollection.

_Say nighty-night and kiss me_

_Just hold me tight and tell me you’ll miss me_

_While I’m alone and blue as can be_

_Dream a little dream of me_

“What are you thinking about?” Bucky murmured softly to you.

“I’m thinking about how you managed to get everyone involved in this,” you lied, grinning up at him. “It’s quite the group effort.”

“Yeah, but I’m taking 75 percent of the credit,” Bucky shrugged and you laughed.

“Is Steve the one cooking?” you asked.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Yeah he is, I can’t imagine what our kitchen must look like right now.”

You laughed again, knowing how seriously Steve took his craft. “That man should have gone to culinary school,” you said, thinking longingly of the bit of chicken parm still on your plate. 

“I know, instead he wants to waste his life being President,” Bucky said with a chuckle. “You know, it wasn’t that hard getting everyone together.”

“No?”

“No,” he shook his head. “All I had to say was that it was for you, and they were more than willing. They all love you,” he said. The serious look from before returned to his face. “I love you,” he added.

The admission wasn’t something new. You, Steve, and Bucky weren’t shy about expressing the love you had for each other, it was something you said any time you had the chance, especially since the accident. But you knew it was different this time, that he meant it in a different way, even if he didn’t say so explicitly.

“I love you too, Buck,” you said, but you had to force the words from your throat and out of your mouth like they had been submerged in quicksand. Your breathing grew shallow, and the gazebo suddenly seemed too small, too cramped.

_Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you_

_Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you_

You both swayed to a slow stop, staring into each other’s eyes. Bucky examined your face, studying every curve and line. His hand moved from yours and cupped your cheek, letting his thumb stroke your chin. You knew what was coming next, what he intended to do before his face even began to get closer to yours, and every fiber of your being told you not to let him do it.

_But in your dreams whatever they be_

_Dream a little dream of me_

You stepped away from him abruptly, causing him to stumble a little. A myriad of emotions crossed his face then (worry, betrayal, yearning, hurt), and your chest constricted.

“I…I don’t think we should do this,” you said breathily.

He blinked, recovering from your unexpected departure. His face had decided on concern when he looked at you.

“We don’t have to do anything,” he promised earnestly. He ran a hand through his hair, searching for the right words. “Look, I don’t—we don’t need to go through with the pact, Y/N. We don’t have to have sex, I just…” his blue eyes pleaded with you. “I just want to be close to you.”

He took a step towards you, but you backed away.

“That’s what I mean, I don’t think we should do this. Any of this,” you said. The gazebo continued to close in on you, and you were desperate to leave. “I have to go,” you choked out and made your way past Bucky to the exit. He attempted to stop you, but you jerked away from him.

“Let go of me!” you shouted at him. It had come out harsher than you had meant. He took several steps back slowly, his hurt palpable around you. Your heart reached out to him, but you turned around and rushed out, not looking back.

After a ways, you quickly took off Nat’s heels and ran the rest of the way to your dorm. You felt the pavement and various pebbles and sticks scrape your feet, but they hardly hurt as much as leaving your best friend behind. You finally got to your room and flung open the door, and you were horrified by what you saw.

There were more fairy lights strung up along the walls, and the whole room was littered with bundles of roses and those flameless candles that looked like they were made of real wax but only had a flickering LED light. There were rose petals strewn on your bed, and there was a box of condoms on your pillow with a post-it note written in Nat’s impeccable penmanship: **Wrap it up, you crazy kids!**

You stared at the note before crushing it in your hand and throwing it out. You grabbed a garbage bag from the kitchen and stuffed it with the petals and bundles of flowers. You turned off all the fake candles and gathered them in a corner of the room. You undressed and got into the shower, letting the bathroom fill up with steam as you just stood there and let the warm water rush over you.

You felt numb. Empty. The image of Bucky’s pained expression plastered itself in your mind. The night had been perfect, he was perfect, but you couldn’t do it. You refused to open that small door within you, the one that would have allowed you to hand yourself over to him fully and completely with no reservation. You just couldn’t.

You put on your pajamas and tucked into bed, knowing you wouldn’t get much sleep.

_Dream a little dream of me._


	4. Chapter 4

It was already noon, but you were still in bed, not ready to leave the warm comfort of your mattress. You had gotten a few hours of sleep, but remnants of the night before still plagued you like a bad hangover. You didn’t dare check your phone, even though you had heard it vibrate a couple of times already. It wasn’t long before Nat knocked on the door, and you told her to come in.

“I wasn’t sure if there was still a party going on in here,” she said cheerfully, dropping her small overnight bag on the floor. “Huh, you cleaned up already.”

“Where’d you sleep last night?” you asked her. Your voice sounded weirdly foreign to you.

“Maria let me crash with her,” she said. You nodded. Maria Hill was a Homeland Security major and she and Nat had hit it off in the history class they shared. Nat pranced over to her bed and sat bouncing on it. “So?! How was it? I don’t wanna know all the gory details, but how was it?!”

You sat up, looking down at your hands, and reading your expression, Nat stopped bouncing.

“I’ll kill him. What did he do?” she said fiercely, and you appreciated her desire to defend you. Nat was always good that way.

“It wasn’t him, it was me,” you told her. You recounted the whole night to her with as much detail as you could manage, and she listened intently.

“I just had to get away,” you finished. For the first time, you felt like you might cry, but you swallowed the lump in your throat and took a deep breath to compose yourself.

“Why?” Nat asked gently.

You sighed and looked at her. “Because. I realized that it would be so easy for me to fall in love with him. If I stayed, I would have given him everything, my whole heart,” you admitted, and you felt some weight lift off your shoulders. That was it, that was the core of your fears.

“And that’s a bad thing?” Nat asked carefully.

“It’s the worst thing,” you said. “I can’t lose myself like my mother did.”

Your parents’ marriage had begun its prolonged deterioration ages before high school. You grew up watching your mother bend over backwards to be the best wife, even sacrificing some of her motherly duties to do so, and her efforts were largely ignored by your father. You were sure that your parents had been lucky in love at the beginning, but by the time you were old enough to understand, they had already begun to drift apart. After the divorce, your mom was a shell of the woman she once was, and she was yet to truly get herself together. It was something you never wanted for yourself, and as much as you loved your mother, you resented her for not rising above it.

Natasha nodded, having heard all about your parents before. “I get that,” she said. “But you’re not your mom, and Bucky’s not your dad,” she pointed out.

“I know, but who’s to say the same thing won’t happen to us? What if we get together and we realize we can’t stand each other and we never speak again?” you rush out.

Nat sighed and got up to sit on your bed. “I know what it’s like growing up without the best examples of love,” she said, and you felt a twinge of guilt. You complained about your parents, but at least you had them. Nat had grown up in the system, jumping from one foster home to another until she finally aged her way out and fought for the chance at making a life for herself and going to college. She was stronger than anyone you knew and your admiration for her had no bounds.

“And because of that,” she continued, “I learned to look for bits of love where I could find them. It didn’t always lead me to the right places, but I never kept myself from feeling it.” She turned to face you completely, crossing her legs in a pretzel. “Love is beautiful, even if some people mishandle it,” she urged you. “Look, I’m not telling you what to do, but I think what you and Barnes have is special. As much as it pains me to admit it,” she groaned and you cracked a grin, “Barnes is a good guy, and the way he looks at you and talks about you is so sweet that I wanna vomit.” You actually laughed at that and Nat smiled.

“All I’m saying is that sometimes fear doesn’t mean to run away. Sometimes it tells you that something is so important that it’s worth fighting for, and you shouldn’t let your parents’ mistake keep you from getting what you want. Besides,” she said, patting your leg. “It’s good to be scared. It means you still have something to lose.”

You looked at her for a moment. “Did you just quote _Grey’s Anatomy_ to me?” you asked, and you both fell into hysterics.

“It fits though,” Nat said in between laughs.

You shook your head. “How do you know just what to say all the time?”

She shrugged. “Trauma either makes you funny or wise, and I got a little bit of both,” she said, and you both laughed again at the absolute shit life had to offer. She threw the covers off of you and stood up. “Come on, you need to eat. Let’s go.”

You groaned but you followed her, getting dressed and leaving the dorm. As you walked along with her to the café, you kept looking over your shoulder to see if you would run into Bucky, but he was nowhere to be seen, and you were relieved. You appreciated what Nat said, but you weren’t ready to face him yet. You continued to avoid him (and Steve) until Tuesday, when you had Laufeyson’s class. Steve was waiting by the door when you left the classroom.

“Hey you,” he said, giving you a look that was a combination of happy and pity.

“Hi,” you said simply, shame creeping up from having left his calls and messages unanswered. Steve hadn’t deserved that. You walked along in silence for a bit before you broke through it.

“What was for dessert anyway?” you asked, and he let out a small laugh.

“Tiramisu,” he informed you. “And it was delicious, not to toot my own horn.”

You gave him the tiniest of grins. “I’m sorry I missed it,” you said. You sighed and stopped walking and Steve followed suit. You looked up at him. “Does he hate me?” you finally asked. You knew that Bucky had left you multiple messages, text and voice, but you hadn’t been able to muster up the courage to read or listen to them.

“He could never hate you, it’s impossible. But he does hate himself.”

“He does?”

Steve nodded. “He thinks he forced himself on you, and that he’s a creep. He called himself ‘Bucky Weinstein’. He’s convinced you’ll never talk to him again.”

You shut your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose. “He has to know that’s not true.”

Steve sighed. “He’s beyond rationalization, honestly.” He gave you his signature Steve Rogers Concerned look. “You should talk to him.”

You knew you had to, but it felt insurmountable. Steve peered at the expression on your face and he chuckled softly, pulling you into a bear hug. You buried your face in his chest and held on tight, relishing in the consolation that his arms brought you.

“I’ll see you later,” he said, tousling your hair a bit and giving you one last smile before heading to class.

You knew exactly where to find Bucky, and your feet took you there on autopilot. Once you got to the lab, you saw him there with Tony, discussing something complicated on the monitor screen.

“Hey Peaches,” Tony said when he saw you, and something in you finally snapped.

“Okay, I need to know. Why the hell do you call me Peaches,” you demanded.

Tony looked surprised that you asked, and he turned slightly sheepish. “It’s kinda embarrassing,” he said. You raised your eyebrows at him in expectation. “You remind me of a nanny I had, when I was younger. I called her Peaches because she made the best peach cobbler,” he admitted.

It was your turn to be surprised. You hadn’t been expecting that as an explanation, and it was at once sweet and tragic, knowing that he was probably almost exclusively raised by nannies when he was younger.

“And she had a nice ass,” he added, and your shoulders fell in surrender, giving up hope that you’d ever have a 100% vulnerable interaction with Tony Stark. He just couldn’t help himself. You grinned at him despite yourself.

“Can I talk to Bucky? Please?” you asked.

“Sure thing,” he said, gathering his stuff. He clapped Bucky on the back. “I’ll catch up with you later, Fabio,” and he left the two of you alone amongst the computers.

“Hey,” you said.

“Hey.”

You stared at each other for a minute, saying nothing and yet hearing everything you needed to in the silence between you. At last, Bucky sighed and seemed to collapse into himself, letting go of everything he had been holding onto for the past few days.

“I am so sorry,” he said, and you grabbed the chair next to him and sat down.

“You have nothing to apologize for Bucky,” you tried to tell him, but he didn’t accept it.

“I ran everything through my head a million times, and there were so many ways I could have done things differently,” he said, sliding his hand over his face before resting his elbow on the table and leaning his head on his fist. He made eye contact with you. “Steve told me, by the way. That he told you about…” he trailed off.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything to me?” you asked.

“I dunno,” he shook his head. He grew thoughtful. “You know, I still remember the first time I saw you,” he said, a smile forming on his lips at the memory. “Freshman year, at lunch. You were outside, in the courtyard, sitting on the steps and reading your book. There was so much going on around you. People yelling, throwing basketballs, running all over the place. But there you were, just reading, like nothing could bother you, like you were on a higher plane than the rest of us. You looked so at peace with yourself, and I knew right away that you were special.”

You rolled your chair closer to him and let your fingers rest on his knee.

“I just knew…that I needed to know you,” he went on. “I needed you in my life, in any capacity, as long as you were there with me. I don’t think I said anything because I didn’t want to mess things up, and then your birthday was coming up, and I saw that stupid pact as my chance to grow a pair.”

“That pact was pretty stupid,” you agreed. “And vaguely misogynistic.” You both chuckled a bit.

Bucky grabbed your hand. “You’re the most important person in my life, and I’m sorry if I made you feel any less than that. Can we just forget any of this ever happened, go back to before?” he pleaded.

“I don’t want to forget,” you said, and he frowned a little. You placed your other hand over his. “Bucky, I’m not saying I don’t have the same feelings as you, but I need time. This isn’t something I can dive into. I need to take baby steps.”

His face looked hopeful. “We can take fetal steps,” he assured you.

You smiled and moved your hand to his cheek, letting your thumb rest on his lips. He closed his eyes and leaned forward until his forehead touched yours, and you stayed that way for a while.

You lifted your head first. “You wanna wait for Steve and get Nat and go bowling?”

“Don’t you have class soon?” he asked and you shrugged.

“It’s basically the end of the semester, no one cares anymore,” you said and he laughed.

“It’s a plan then,” he said, smiling at you, his blue eyes radiant.

You looked at him, your best friend, your soulmate, and you didn’t think about the future, or how things would turn out. You focused on the here and now, the man before you, and you thanked your lucky stars that he was real and tangible, that you had him here with you, and it didn’t seem like he was going anywhere anytime soon. James Buchanan Barnes was an indelible fixture in your history, and you promised yourself in that moment you would never walk away from him again, that you would grow together, and it would be the two of you against the world. You nodded your head at him. 

“It’s a plan.” 


End file.
